Bedazzled

began to cry. The dey had terrified her, first with his talk of the janissaries, and then when he had dragged her down the hallway, she had thought surely he was going to carry out his threat. 'I want to go home,' she sobbed.

'You are home,' Azura snapped. 'Unless, of course, you continue in your foolish behavior. Allah only knows where you will end up then! Perhaps in some sheikeh's tent out on the desert where your fair skin will be burned leathery as you squat over a campfire cooking your master's supper of couscous and goat.' Then, relenting her harshness, she put her arms about the girl to comfort her.

'Won't the dey just ransom me now?' India sniffled.

'No, my child. I have spoken the truth to you when I told you that there is no hope of a ransom for you. You must accept your fate. Now, what is so terrible about becoming the beloved of Caynan Reis? He is handsome, and yet young. If you would give him a child, your position in his household would be assured, particularly if that child was a son. Would this not have been your fate in your own England, India? To marry and have children?'

'You want me to marry the dey?' India was astounded.

'He will take you for his wife if you give him a child,' Azura half lied. 'That is the way of this world.'

'But I am a Christian, and he is an infidel,' India pointed out.

'He follows the teachings of Islam, my child,' Azura said.

'Mama's father, her real father, not BrocCairn, was a Muslim,' India considered thoughtfully.

'We all worship the same God,' Azura told her in practical tones. 'What difference does it make how we worship.'

India was thoughtful, and then she asked, 'What will happen to me now, my lady? What did the dey mean when he said I was to serve him as his body slave? I do not understand.'

'You will be at your master's beck and call around the clock, my child, and you will serve him in all ways except in his bed,' Azura explained. 'You will have no place in the harem.'

'But where will I sleep?' India cried.

'Wherever the dey tells you you may sleep,' she replied. 'Do not be afraid, India. It is a mild punishment he gave you for the affront to his pride. Perhaps it is better. You will learn to know him.' She smiled encouragingly at the girl. 'You may sleep here with me tonight upon the divan. Then, in the morning, Baba Hassan will explain your duties to you.' She patted India's hand gently. 'Lie down now, my child. You look absolutely exhausted, and I can see you are near collapse.'

***

It was barely dawn when Baba Hassan came to awaken India. Both his look and his tone were disapproving. 'Get up, girl! Your master must be awakened and bathed.'

India scrambled to her feet, casting a desperate look at Azura, but the mistress of the harem ignored her.

'Come along,' the head eunuch said, and India quickly followed him. 'Now, after you have awakened the dey, girl, you will escort him to the baths, to bathe and dress him, and then you will fetch his breakfast. I will help you this morning, but after today, you must know your duties without me, and carry them out.' Baba Hassan pushed open the door to the dey's suite, calling as he did in a low but clear voice, 'Awaken, my lord dey. The dawn is breaking, and you have a full schedule.' He pulled the naked girl from the dey's side. 'Return to the harem, Layla.' Then he looked at India. 'Gently touch him, girl, and bid him awake.'

Gingerly she reached out, and brushed his shoulder with her fingers. 'Awaken, my lord,' she half whispered.

Caynan Reis rolled over, looking up at her. 'She isn't garbed properly,' he noted to Baba Hassan.

'She must bathe you, my lord. She will be given her new garments after she has completed her first duties,' the eunuch answered his master.

The dey arose. 'Let us begin then.'

India's eyes widened with surprise and shock. The dey was stark naked. She didn't know where to look, and what made it worse was the slight smile upon his lips that mocked her. First that overripe little creature in his bed! Was she going to be expected to rouse those women every day? Now his nakedness when he certainly knew that she had never seen a naked man in her entire life! Her cheeks burned with her embarrassment.

'The dey has his own private bath,' Baba Hassan informed her. He moved across the chamber through another arched door, saying as he went, 'Remove your kaftan, girl. You cannot bathe your master dressed. Your garment would be ruined with the water and the steam.' They were in the bath's anteroom, and the eunuch swiftly whisked the kaftan over her head, handing it to a waiting slave.

There was no time to protest, or even feel shy. India swallowed hard, not daring to look at Caynan Reis's handsome face, for she knew instinctively that he would be silently taunting her, and she would want to smack his face. She had already learned that attacks on the dey would not be tolerated. She was amazed that her back was free of soreness after the five strokes he had meted out to her yesterday.

'The first thing you must do,' the eunuch began, and then he went on to instruct India in the proper method of bathing a man.

'Wield the scraper yourself, Baba Hassan,' the dey instructed the eunuch. 'I am loath to allow a pointed object in her hand quite yet.'

India rinsed Caynan Reis using a silver basin after he had been scraped free of sweat and dirt.

'Very good,' the eunuch approved. 'Now, continue on as I have instructed you, and when the master is soaking in the heated pool, wash yourself, for it is the only time you will have to do so each day. Then bring our lord to the masseuse, and I will give you your new clothes.' Baba Hassan hurried off leaving India alone with the dey.

Caynan Reis sat down upon a marble bench, nodding at India to begin the ablutions. First she washed his dark hair, and when she had rinsed it thoroughly, she toweled it free of water. Then, kneeling, she washed his feet, and lower legs. He stood, and India washed his upper legs, his chest, his belly, hurrying behind him to wash his back, shoulders, buttock, and the back of his legs. Then she rinsed him thoroughly. He had the most beautiful body, she thought, wondering as she did if it were proper for a woman to see a man naked and admire his form. He seemed to be in perfect proportion, lean and hard.

'I am finished, my lord,' she said softly.

'I think not,' he told her. 'You have not yet washed my manhood, India. Remember you are now my body slave, and it is your duty to bathe all of me. My manhood is an important part of me.'

'Could you not bathe it yourself?' she ventured. My God! He couldn't really want her to wash him there!

'Take your cloth, kneel down, and do your duty, India,' he said in a not- to-be-argued-with voice.

India gritted her teeth. Iam not going to allow him to bully me, she thought, kneeling down before him. God! It was staring her in the face. Were they all so big? And what was that hanging beneath and behind it? She dipped the cloth into the alabaster jar of thick soap.

'Be gentle,' he warned her. 'It is tender, and needs a delicate touch. You do not want to injure so fine an instrument as this.'

'I'm certain there are better in the world,' she retorted, the words out of her mouth before she realized it.

To her relief he laughed. 'Possibly,' he agreed, 'but you must trust me,